Inspiration

I had a bad week. Not the worst of my life, but I cried at work every day until today.

Today, I went into a meeting that had the potential to leave me in tears and instead I held firm. I politely and carefully explained that I was standing up for myself, for what I needed to keep myself healthy and happy and that I understood the consequences.

I turned down an offer which, while couched as a benefit for me, was intended to solve everyone’s problem but mine.

It was hard. It was scary and it was so worth it.

I spoke truth to power, then I went home and danced to Sara Bareilles’s Brave.

I’m here world, and this is exactly how big my brave is.

PS. I never could have done this without all the people who love me helping to validate that work was treating me unfairly and it was ok to stand up for myself. Love and thanks and then love again.

I started reading Lean In. I’m only 20 percent through the book and I already know it’s going to change my life. Sheryl Sandberg’s words are calling me to action. (I feel like I have a giant neon arrow pointing at my head. Like she’s a good friend, poking me in the ribs saying “Hey, Laura, this is you”.)

The Universe it throwing all sorts of hints my way that it’s time to lean in and change how I think and present myself to the world. It’s time to be brave.

I want things. We all want things. My problem is that I usually go after the things I think I should want, rather than the things I really want or even like.

I took a class in ancient Greek in University because I wanted to see myself in a certain way. Seriously. Ancient Greek. I hated every minute of it. It was a bad case of miswanting.

The same semester that I took ancient Greek I put off joining the school choir or taking a drama class (even though I peered into the lobby of the school theatre with longing every time I walked by) because I’d convinced myself that wasn’t the type of person I was meant to be.

I even convinced myself to give up writing in my teens because doing something I loved wasn’t practical. It took me years to build up the courage to try again and re-discover my love of storytelling.

So if I can’t trust myself to want the things I’ll like what can I do? Simon Sinik gave an amazing TED Talk about leadership that introduced me the solution. Lead with the limbic brain.

Simon described the limbic brain in a way I’d never understood before, he called it the decision making centre, the gut instinct section of the brain that inspires. The less flattering version was the lizard brain. (He was talking from a standpoint of inspiring others as a leader but I saw it as more. Why not inspire myself?)

I think I’ve been ignoring my limbic brain for my entire life. Ignoring those little bursts of excitement when I hear about a new job, hobby, person or thing that interest me. I let the rest of my brain overpower the limbic lizard’s message that I’ve just encountered something worth exploring.

I let the rest of my mind, the part that is polluted by years of cultural training and self doubt take over.

There are consequences to every action and I’m grateful for that. In fact I wish more people were aware of consequences. (I’m talking to you silver pickup that cut me off today.)

If you yell at your boss, you can expect to be fired or at the least disciplined.

If you’re rude, people won’t want to be around you.

If you cut me off I will honk repeatedly, gesture and … ok, bad example, he totally got away with it.

Most of the time when you act poorly towards someone else the consequences are clear, but what if the consequences for behaving poorly towards yourself were clear?

Sure, not exercising will make you unhealthy, but that’s the easy one. What if every time you put yourself down or thought something negative about yourself there was someone in a chocolate brown smart car behind you honking and gesturing rudely?

This is the product of my on-board class in acrylic painting. The class was only an hour, but they let me take a few supplies back to my room and a few days later this happened. It’s a reproduction of a Van Gogh and I’m super proud, especially considering it’s the first time I’ve tried painting since high school. I think at home I would have had an anxiety attack spending five hours on something as “frivolous” and “selfish” as painting. (I know I have work to do on valuing things I enjoy.)

Today we arrived in the Sargasso Sea. A seaweed laden area of the Atlantic bounded by four ocean currents. We are officially 900 nautical miles to the nearest land (a tiny island I’ve never heard of) and the sea below us is 80,000 feet deep. 80,000 feet. Over 15 miles down. The amount of water is impossible to imagine. Seriously, I’m trying.

The ocean goes so far into the horizon that the line where the sea meets the sky looks painted. I’m starting to understand how the Truman Show could convince Truman that he was outside in the real world. It’s so beautiful here I’m having trouble believing it’s real. I go back and forth between disbelief at the beauty and wonder that early explorers who didn’t know (for sure) there was an end to the water had the bravery to set sail into this.

I’m inspired and deliciously lazy all at the same time. (I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere where I could actually say there is nothing I have to do right now.) I think I’ll go take another nap.

Writing Exercise:

I feel like a cat. I wake up, head over to my food bowl (buffet), then over to a lounge chair for a few hours. Then, digestion complete, I wander back to my room for a nap. I could handle being a cat forever. I thought I’d get bored, but apparently I’ve been short on sleep for…forever, and my body really really wants to catch up.

When I was a kid I used to beg my mother to let me stay up. I had soooo many important things to do as a five year old. I even promised that I’d sleep when I grew up. Sigh. But what if we could, or rather had to. What if the sleep debt we accumulate over time was being tabulated by something and we each had to plan for an enforced coma to make up what we owe. Would there be storage facilities to check ourselves into? Happy writing.

Strata might think they’re installing bike storage but they just don’t see the big picture…or the impending Z attack. Thank goodness one of us is planning ahead.

Strata is in the process of installing a zombie cage in our parking garage.

Zombie cages are a much better idea than closets and walk-in freezers for zombie warehousing.

Firstly, if the need arises you can kill the undead through the bars.

Secondly, cages are open to the air so you can use them as a segregation area to quarantine and observe survivors (without the risk of asphyxiation). Little known fact, quarantine is the most overlooked portion of all zombie plans. Seriously, just because a person says they’re not bitten, you’re just going to let them in? My way you can watch them until you’re sure they’re not in the process of turning into the worst neighbours ever.

Normally I don’t read my Horoscope. Then something like this happens and I have to re-think my whole belief system. Maybe calculus isn’t the root of all evil.

Lastly, zombie cages a great place to store bikes until the unfortunate event (read zombie apocalypse) unfolds. (There’s a small chance that Strata only knows about the cage’s utility for bike security.)

In other news I’m thinking of taking on a new writing project. I’m still working on the first draft edits of Super to get it submitted, but when the Universe gives hints this strong, they’re hard to ignore.

I get it Universe, one new story on the way.

Writing Exercise:

The first few parts of my horoscope I understand. Pen, paper, get a new story going. Check. But the “delegate tasks” part might be a bit of a challenge considering I don’t have a staff to delegate said tasks to. I’m pretty sure that I’m going to have a compliance problem when I walk up to random strangers with a bag of laundry and inform them that they have what it takes to succeed. (I like to add a little positive feedback when dumping undesirable tasks.)

What would happen if delegating to strangers was an option? Would it be one long series of passing the buck until you got your own task back? Would a system of flags be developed? (“Sorry I’ve already been delegated to today.”) Would people develop habits to avoid seeing other people, only going out to get groceries when they were unlucky enough not to catch a neighbour in the hallway?

Last week I went to the Art Gallery at lunch to see a concert. (I know, sounds just like me right?) I felt like a fraud walking in (modern art = not my thing), but I really enjoyed the music.

I enjoyed it that is, right up until I realized that the very talented person playing the music was born in 1997. 1997! Do that math, I did. (Slowly, in my non-child-prodigy way.)

Not only was she playing a concert for dozens of people in the Art Gallery, she was playing songs she had written for MULTIPLE INSTRUMENTS. She played the piano and had someone accompany her for a while on the clarinet. Sure. Whatever, no big deal.

I had nearly come to terms with her amazing skill, largely by convincing myself that she was some sort of freak of nature that was only good at one thing, even if that one thing was being a brilliant musician.

“Sure she can play the piano like an angel and compose music that made me imagine people waltzing among our chairs, but I bet that’s all she can do. I bet she couldn’t name all the characters on all the Star Treks. Ha!”

Then just when my ego was about to recover, she stood up to explain her next piece, in French. (Translating the title so we would understand.) Do you know the word for “cricket” or “lady bug” in French? She did.

I suck.

Then to make matters worse, this week there are all sorts of inspirational stories in the news about our Olympic athletes. Physically gifted and dedicated youth who spin through the air and sweep across the ice filling me with patriotic pride, and the teesiest bit of horrendous green-eyed monster.

I considered hiding under my blankets, or watching reality TV (there’s always someone to feel superior to on TLC) but then the Universe threw me a bone. I saw an article on CBC about the genetics of athletes. Apparently being mediocre and lazy as a youth is totally not my fault. Just like brown eyes y’all, I was born this way.

(But just in case I’m going to the gym tomorrow. And writing an extra few hundred words. Maybe someone will be jealous of me one day.)

Writing Exercise:

Music can create images in our mind. One of the songs I listened to at the concert was supposed to bring to mind different insects. I was blown away by how easily I could hear the personality of each insect in the music; the frantic intensity of ants, the slow lope of a butterfly visiting flowers. What instrument would you use to make people think of you, or of your characters? Happy writing.

Sometimes it pays to leave the house. I haven’t figured out how or where yet, but this place is totally making an appearance in my next novel.

Writing Exercise:

Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. A store called Time Bomb Trading can’t possibly sell time bombs…right? Imagine a character has something to hide, perhaps they are a super villain, a bank robber or criminal mastermind. What kind of business would they have to hide in plain sight? NB. I think Mastermind would be a great name for a gaming store. In the front, Warhammer figurines and six versions of Catan, in the back…cork board brainstorming to take over the world. Excellent.

Spend twenty minutes in your character’s place of business and write about what you find. Happy writing.